


The Unchosen One

by Leni



Series: Alternate Realities (Buffyverse) [8]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2018-02-23 13:03:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2548466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leni/pseuds/Leni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where Buffy is not the Slayer, but just a Potential... a scene from an alternate 'Prophecy Girl'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Unchosen One

Angel pinned her smaller body to the floor long enough to make his point. His eyes locked with her frustrated ones, he dragged his finger across her throat. "You're dead."

Buffy didn't bother to buck him off - for which he was relieved and disappointed in equal parts - but instead slammed her fist against his side.

"Sore loser," he teased as he pulled himself to his knees above her.

"Cheat," she threw back at him, not looking the least bit threatened by his position. "I was going easy on you. You said you'd been injured last night."

He wasn't proud that he'd apparently grown too confident with Buffy watching his back, but in his defense even together they'd have had trouble with the vampire gang he'd met by the docks. The sudden spike in vampire activity had caught him by surprise, but the fact that Buffy had noticed the same on her part of town bothered him. Something was coming, something big. He promised himself that after this evening's training, he would hit his contacts for more information.

But for now, he had his honor to defend.

(Funny how fighting for a cause made him care for little things like that.)

"I didn't lie." He lifted his shirt enough so she could see the bandage across his midriff. It wasn't necessary by now, not truly, but she always fretted when he didn't treat his injuries properly, and he'd gotten used to playing human about anything that concerned her. "Satisfied?"

"...yeah."

Too late he noticed that her eyes had made quick work of inspecting and dismissing the injured spot, and were now roaming the rest of him. Half of him wanted to preen under her obvious interest, the wiser half knew from experience that she'd only get flustered and avoid him for days.

Girls these days were a lot shier than he remembered.

Or perhaps he'd run around with a different kind of girl back in his youth.

Some of his thoughts must have shown, because Buffy made a little noise and scrambled away and onto her feet. She looked at him searchingly, but when he only returned her scrutiny with an unassuming smile, she relaxed enough to get back into the easy mood of their conversation. "It would be a lot better for my peace of mind if I wasn't afraid I'd hurt you." How she managed to say that without sounding patronizing, he had no idea. Perhaps because they both knew that this wasn't the first time she'd ended on the losing side - nor would it be the last. "Can't you at least wear some protective padding?"

He raised an eyebrow as he slowly came to his feet. "I will if you wear it too."

Buffy scoffed.

Angel nodded. "I agree. Practicing together is not worth it without a real challenge."

She cocked her head at his words. "Well, isn't that a different tune." She sat astride the arm of the couch they’d rearranged back to the edge of his main room after the earthquake. Legs crossed, her elbow on one of her knees, she rested her chin on her fist and looked him over. "Someone has sure changed his mind since I met him. Whatever happened to the guy who didn't take risks?"

He was glad he didn't blush. "He met you," he tossed back, but there was no bite in it and they both knew it.

Indeed, Buffy grinned. "Look at that. I can be a good influence!" Then her face darkened. "Unlike what other people say."

Mr. Madison had taken to blaming the changes in his daughter on her friendship with Buffy. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad if the two girls had formed a true friendship instead of that uneasy alliance that rested on keeping each other's secrets. "Hey," he said, coming forward to crouch in front of her. "You okay?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "Sure. I hang out with the morality-challenged witch, but a nice girl like Willow Rosenberg can barely bring herself to tutor me in Algebra. I'm not that scary... am I?"

Angel forced himself not to laugh. Buffy and scary didn't live in the same universe - not unless one was a sheltered sixteen-year-old girl who'd watched Buffy bring down a man twice her size. The fact that the same sight had propelled Xander into sudden love hadn't improved Buffy's chances at Willow's friendship.

"Perhaps if you pretended to like Algebra..."

She made a face. "You don't like it any better," she pointed out.

The memory of her attempt at having him help with her school assignment made him smile. She'd ended up believing he'd dropped out of school so he could hunt vampires. He'd made her promise not to follow in his footsteps. It was easier than explaining that his teachers hadn't dreamed to teach a bunch of Irish brats more than their sums, and the fancy tutor his father had hired when he’d still believed his son could amount to something… Well. That man had been more fond of canning than explaining the lessons. "Perhaps if they taught something useful..."

Buffy rolled her eyes, pushing herself up to head back to the center of the room. "Bring it up to the school committee, you rebel."

Angel followed her unspoken lead, and rubbed his shoulder as he walked behind her into their customary starting fighting positions. "Remember, I'm injured."

She laughed. "I'll go easy, all right."

She didn't.

He loved every second of it. "Ouch," he said as his back hit the floor, her weight heavy as her knees pressed against his thighs and her hands kept his upper body down. At least she was avoiding the bandaged parts. "We can call it a tie."

"No way." Buffy panted a laugh. "I've got you down, big boy."

He had no idea what came over him. She looked so pleased with herself. He could think of ten different ways to turn this position to his favor, and only one that would drive the lesson through. If he didn’t test her, who would? "Do you really?" He gave her a second to think it over before he made a lunge for her side, curled his fingers at the lower edge of her tank top and pulled hard.

"Hey!"

It was a womanly reflex. Just like aiming between a man's legs in a fight. Threaten to uncover her breasts, and all her attention went to struggle her way out instead of keeping her hold on her prisoner. He wouldn't have gone all the way, but he did use her distraction to push her off him and jump out of her reach.

Just in time.

Her foot flew an inch away from his knee. Then she recovered her balance, her clothes straightened, and shot him a murderous glare. "What's wrong with you?!"

Angel took a deep breath. Perhaps there was a reason for which, in the normal course of things, Potentials went under the care of older men dedicated to the good fight and nothing else. No Watcher would have dared such a trick. But in the real world... "What's wrong with _me_?" he shouted back. "Why did you let me free?"

"Because you were..." Her color heightened. "You know why!"

He pressed his thumb between his eyebrows, trying to rub away an oncoming headache. He never should have brought this up this soon. "I'm sorry. I thought you'd know how to head off an attack like that by now."

"Yeah, well." Buffy shifted from foot to foot. "We're supposed to take down vampires and demons, not randy college boys who want to cop a feel." She must have realized what she'd given away, because her eyes widened and she crossed her arms over her chest. "I cannot use my full strength on them, Angel. They already think I'm a freak."

"Not freakish enough, I bet." He gave a pointed glance at her breasts. "Do they know you're sixteen?"

She bristled. "Well. At least they don't treat me like I'm twelve!"

Suddenly he was hovering over her. When had he traveled the distance between them? She didn't back down from him, didn't even take her eyes from his. She was this slip of girl, cursed with inhuman agility and strength, doomed to fight on top of the meanest portal to hell. And yet, he blessed every second he spent at her side. Lord, how he admired every inch of her.

"Well?" she challenged him, stepping even closer. Months of polite and mutual agreement that he was too old for her - and she didn't know half of it! - came crashing around their ears. "Cat got your tongue? Or perhaps I'm too young to hear your thoughts? Oh, I know. You’re worried PG-13 won’t cover it."

All the admiration in the world didn't belie the fact that he was annoyed as hell. That he wanted to scream that she had no business tangling with college boys, randy or not. That, yes, what he had in mind was rated too high for her. What did she think she was doing, daring him to do his worst? "Go shower," he snarled between gritted teeth. "We're done for the day."

Her eyes narrowed.

He shoved every wild emotion behind his customary façade. Whatever their feelings, they couldn't go further as long as he kept lying to her. And he was terrified of telling her the truth. "I'm heading out, so feel free to hog all the hot water."

Her shoulders stiff with anger, she shook her head. "Fine. Whatever." She marched toward the bathroom door, just as unwilling to continue their argument. She was only sixteen, after all, with too much knowledge of how to deal with threats against other people's lives, and too little of how to deal with the feelings she aroused in a man.

The door slammed behind her, and a few seconds later he heard the water turn on.

She did like the steam to build up before she stepped in.

Angel was reaching for the doorknob on the front door when he heard her shriek. She raced out of the bathroom and bumped into him before he could barrel down the door between them. He gathered her in his arms in an effort to balance the both of them, and she didn't resist when he kept her body against his.

"The w-water!" she stuttered, pointing behind her with a bewildered look. "I don't care that Sunnydale's sewers are plagued with the undead. That's _not_ normal; it's the opposite from normal!"

He didn't need to ask what the problem was. The sharp smell of blood had already slammed into him. He forced his fangs back, aware that this was the worst possible moment to let his true nature show.

He didn't need to study the occult to understand the meaning of this portent: Armageddon had come knocking.

Buffy took a look at his face. "It's that bad, huh." She let out a nervous giggle. "You know, when I complained that having no date for the Spring Fling was the end of my world, I didn't mean the hellmouth to take it literally."

"We'll figure it out," he told her, wanting nothing more than to lock her in this room until the danger had passed. Lock himself in with her, too, if he was sincere. But she would never walk away from a fight, and his only way to help her was to make sure she didn't fight alone. "I'm sorry."

She let her forehead fall against his chest. "Because you were a jerk or because the world is ending?"

He grasped her shoulders and carefully pulled her away. He craved her closeness, but not for long enough that she'd notice his lack of a heartbeat. "Can it be for both?"

Tears gathered in her eyes, another nervous reaction. "As long as you make up for it."

"I'll let you use my favorite sword."

She took a deep breath and managed a smile. "That would cover the world-ending part..."

"...and I'll have your favorite ice-cream in the fridge next time you come," he conceded. "Even if I'll have to drive all the way to L.A. to find it."

"When you discover the best peanut-butter-and-chocolate-chips, you don't settle for second best," she informed him, the shock wearing off as they continued the mundane conversation. If she needed a few minutes of easy banter to settle her emotions, he could give that to her. "Besides, if you would let me drive, then I could go on my own."

 _Let's drive away_ , he wanted to propose. _Let's go forever._

"Not a chance," he said instead.

She shrugged off his response, having expected it, and took a deep breath. "Okay. The world can't end before I'm on the wheel of that beauty. Time for business." She moved deeper into the room, straight toward the phone. "I'll call Amy. Perhaps she'll find something useful in those spell books of hers."

"Call the others, too," he told her.

She looked back at him, surprised. "Whatever for?"

"Because whatever this is, it'll be happening all over town." Others would dismiss the signs, but not those three. Teenagers were not his perfect idea of back-up, but it was everything he had to work with. He would pay a visit to Jenny Calendar, too. "They want to help. I say we let them."

"I don't know..."

"Worst case scenario," he said more firmly, "we'll need people to alert the town while we fight off whatever's coming."

After some short deliberation, she nodded. "I guess it's not a bad idea."

"And Buffy?" He waited until she was looking into his face. "I don't think of you as a twelve-year-old."

She gave a grim chuckle. "I know."

 

The End


End file.
